Hermione Granger lived to please Minerva McGonagall. Ever since her first year, she worked hard to earn the best grades, sacrificed her nights to outshine everybody else with dark circles under her eyes, anything just to deserve those rarest of smiles... she simply couldn't stand disappointing her favourite professor. A realisation began to grow on the outskirts of her mind in third year when she betrayed her best friends and told McGonagall about Harry's christmas gift, a suspicion that grew when she quit divination because McGonagall thought it was worthless and that exploded bright as day in her Defense finals when the thing she feared most turned out to be disappointing the woman she loved.
Love. Young as she was, Hermione barely understood the word, much less the feeling. To everybody else, Minerva McGonagall may seem mature and severe with her black hair in a bun and glasses that sparked at the sight of mischief. To Hermione, she seemed... perfect. The epitome of intelligence, the very thing she had always craved most. That alone made professors highly attractive to her. She had to admit her admiration for Gilderoy Lockhart had been an embarassment. But then Minerva had still seemed so far away...
In fourth year, Hermione had gone so far as dating Viktor Krum in denial of her feelings. What would the people who made snide comments about his added three years say to her if they knew how often she glanced at a much older woman when she was dancing with him? Wondering how it would feel in her arms, how a different pair of hands would hold her waist. Close and assured. Hermione kept remembering how Professor McGonagall had slipped in the hall at the beginning of the year and crashed into her, fingers clinging to her neck as she nearly fell over. Hermione simply wished Minerva would hold on to her always.
At the end of fifth year, Hermione had to admit that she was done for. She had admired McGonagall all year as she stood up to Umbridge and Hermione played her own part in undermining the ministry, but it was as the ministry's minions attacked Minerva and the pain ripped through Hermione like a violent tide that all of her doubts were washed away. She missed Minerva, her diamond smiles, her quiet wit and louder sarcasm, her loyalty, her devotion and the shape of her shoulders that promised paradise under emerald robes...
She imagined what would happen if she stopped doing her homework. Of course she would never truly dare, although the thought of detention with Minerva made it a very tempting venture. She would sit at her desk in the first row, alone with her professor. Sneaking glances at the other woman between lines. Drinking her in when she was done. Minerva would walk over and bend down beside her. She would ask if Hermione had learned her lesson as she finished any given task easily, and Hermione would shake her head and walk away. She would not do her homework. She would stay strong and then... as much as the mere thought seemed impossible... she would skip a class. And Minerva would decide she had to resort to different methods of punishment. That Hermione's actions must have more palpable consequences. She would make her bend over the desk and smack her ass. Lift her skirt and strike her flesh again and again... Hermione hoped that the other girls in her dormitory were fast asleep as she touched herself and her body arched off the bed with each imaginary hit as if struck by lightning.
It did not happen as Hermione had imagined it. It happened in sixth year when Hermione realised it would be her last year at Hogwarts, that she would not return because some things are bigger than yourself, or your love, and that all the time she thought she had left with her professor was really no time at all. She knew that as soon as she knew about the horcruxes. And she had to let Minerva know, too. She snuck through the halls the next night, for even though she was allowed to wander, she did not wish to get caught. She quietly knocked on Minerva's door. "Come in", called the voice that made her heart beat faster. "Miss Granger", McGonagall said, surprised, and the mere sound of her name sent a shiver down Hermione's spine. "What can I do for you this evening?" Hermione swallowed down the countless innuendos that came into her mind and replied "I just wanted to inform you that I will not be able to attend Hogwarts next year. Neither will two fellow Gryffindors, whom of course I cannot name but I am sure you know who it will be, anyways. As our... head of house, I thought you should know." Professor McGonagall looked at her sharply for a moment before saying "so Mr Potter is leaving on a mission and you and Mr Weasley are coming with him." Hermione nodded. "I see". Professor McGonagall got up from her desk. "In that case, Miss Granger, I feel compelled to tell you that you have always been an extraordinary student and I wish you the best of luck even though I have the greatest possible faith in your abilities, and-" Minerva's voice trailed off and the eyes behind her glasses grew tender as she looked at Hermione and realised she might never see her best student again. When had Hermione grown so tall? When had she come so close? Minerva could just lean forward and kiss her forehead. And in one mad moment, she did. She stood there, shellshocked at her own lack of control, when she felt gentle lips brush her own. Hermione was looking at her with wide hazel eyes and Minerva wondered if this had really just happened, if this whole thing was even real and that she had not in truth fallen asleep over grading student's assignments and this was all a dream. Before she could decide on the matter however, she was kissing Hermione. Cupping her face in her hands and pressing up against her, tangling her hands in wild brown hair and turning them around so that it was Hermione against her desk, on top of it, under her...
That was how it happened. Neither woman denied their night. They hungered for each other too much. Minerva ached for Hermione's silken skin, and Hermione, well... she would happily fail all of her classes (apart from transfiguration) just to hear Minerva call her a good girl again. She woke up one night as the small weight of a grey tabby cat shifted into the familiar weight of a muscular, well-shaped body settling on top of her, a thigh sliding between her legs and a low voice ordering her to keep quiet. The mere act of breaking a multitude of rules all at once was enough to turn any Gryffindor on, as was the considerable chance of getting caught doing it. Hermione prayed that none of the girls in her dormitory would wake up to see her being thoroughly fucked by their professor. She could have cast a silencing spell, hell, she could have cast a sleeping curse, but the risk was part of the fun. Minerva trailed kisses down her neck and over her shoulders, reaching down to lift the hem of Hermione's nightgown up and above her head. Hermione lay in her own bed in nothing but her lace panties and her professor on top of her who was now leaving lovebites on her breasts, as she recalled that one moment years ago... "Professor?" Hermione was barely breathing, desperately trying to keep quiet. "Yes, Miss Granger?", McGonagall whispered against her skin. Hermione couldn't find the words to say what she wanted. So she searched for Minerva's hand instead and dragged it away from her hip and up to her neck. "You want me to choke you?", her professor asked lowly. Hermione nodded. She felt the hand close around her throat in an iron hold and a kiss on her lips that made her breath hitch. Fingers slipped beneath the lace on her skin and inside of her, the pressure on her pipes growing to keep any sounds from escaping their prison. She held on to Minerva until dawn, still wishing that this could be forever, that she would not have to leave... a few days later, all of their mad moments were gone. And so was Hermione.
She returned more than a year later, the completion of her education her only excuse to be close to her lover again. She had been scared that they would not be the same, that the year apart would have become a world in the war, but their victory was infinite. Another dawn coloured the sky as Minerva claimed Hermione for her own, her body, her mind, her everything. Nothing would ever seperate them again.
Hermione leaned up against her lover as she was studying for her finals, Minerva's methods of revision making her feel like she was under cross-fire, soft kisses on her cheek when she got the trick questions right. There were only two things she wanted. To emerge from her finals as the best, and... Minerva. For as much as Minerva had her, did she truly have Minerva? The two things became one on the night of her last exam. Minerva was taking her to dinner. They walked home holding hands and finally, Minerva allowed Hermione to take what she wanted. "Congratulations on your finals, Miss Granger", McGonagall said, and afterwards "you were outstanding".